F is For
by nowthenSoreDewa
Summary: Poor Natarle. So strict, so severe, so martyred, and that wicked crush she had on Mwu La Fllaga never got anywhere... Right? New chapter: Getting down to business. Rating's as high as the gleam in Mwu's eye... Alaska's still nowhere near in sight.
1. Breathing Room

**So F Is For...**

"There were boys like you at the Academy," she recalls in her low, husky voice. Mwu knows that's true, because, well, he _was _at the Academy, though not while she was. "Sometimes I'd look at them. They never looked back. And that was fine. Perfectly acceptable. I didn't want them to see me. I wanted to graduate top of the class."

"And you did."  
"Yes."  
"Was I not supposed to look back, Lieutenant?"

* * *

She's the combat information commander and she doesn't know why she can't process what they do and what it does to her, other than having no frame of reference by which to go. There's no logic and there's certainly no direction. Why does she have this man, who's so attractive that she couldn't overlook him, willing to do these things with her? Why is she willing to -- no, she's had that discussion with herself already. Claiming, and proving, that he's aroused by her, over, and over, again...

It was the correct decision to limit her contact with Commander Fllaga strictly to Friday nights. Any more would be dangerous, totally unacceptable.

Once a week, she'll violate the rules for a few hours -- and she keeps waiting for something catastrophically consequential to happen to punish her for it -- but she's surprised that somewhere, inside the confusion and shame and fear it produces, she does feel just a bit better.

Does that make this the "breathing room" everyone's always referenced to her?


	2. Balancing Act

_[A/N...so this part opens in the mythical land of 'in medias res' for now...]_

She can't believe she's doing this -- she must be becoming severely mentally unbalanced -- but...she also feels like she can't breathe, so on her way to get the thermos of juice, she stands up and undoes her jacket, and leaves it on the back of the chair. Except, now she feels like she's freezing in her undershirt. The thermostat is no help, reading as normal. Returning, she sits back down and and hands him a plastic glass full. And finally manages to look at him again.

He's smiling. Like always. "Are we drinking to victory, Lieutenant?" He raises his cup.

"I'd settle for 'safety', Commander," she tells him, somberly, though she gestures at him with her drink before swallowing it down.

He still seems amused by something, sipping from his own cup. "Mmm--you're right, this is good juice. You weren't kidding about being thirsty."

She doesn't "kid". Ever. He knows that.

That freezing, choking feeling isn't going away.

"Lieutenant, are you all right?" He gets up and stands by her chair. "Come on, don't get sick on me like the Captain did. We don't need you fainting, too."

"If I were ill that wouldn't change the structure of the bridge command," she says automatically. "Captain Ramius would still be in charge."

"Ah, but Murrue can't handle that _and _CIC like you can."

She needs to ask him to leave. She'll feel better once he goes. Really. At least the pain in her stomach will stop. She stands up. Opens her mouth. And stumbles.

He catches her by her upper arms to steady her. "Whoa! Hey...Careful. Easy."

She opens her mouth again. Does her face look that pained? She looks down at the carpet.

She sees his feet move as he steps closer and hugs her. Hard.

At least...she's warmer.

"I know, I know, 'sexual harassment', I know," he mutters. "Court-martial me when we get to Alaska, ok?" But her stomach's not hurting to the degree that it was, a second before.

At least she can speak, now. "I think, Commander Fllaga, the problem is that I don't _want _you to stop," she mumbles.

But she's Natarle, so she can only mumble precisely.

He gives a big sigh. "Well, that one's easy to fix. Status quo." He carries on embracing her. Squeezes a little bit, even. "Everyone needs you around here, Lieutenant. Nobody should feel happy and comfortable in a war zone." He's teasing, but it's true. "But we're not _always _under fire. You want to tell me what's going on? Better still, can I help?"

"I--could blame you." She knows how red her face is. Good thing she isn't looking at him. Later she'll think that having his arms around her must have _completely _unbalanced her. What was she doing, telling him??

"I'm sorry." He steps away -- and puts a hand back on her shoulder. "Can I make it up to you?"

And he tilts her face with a finger and kisses her on the forehead.

Natarle _can_ remember the last time someone kissed her. She knows she can but she can't do it now. She closes her eyes.

He does it again. "All right, so since I just signed my own death warrant, at least I can't say I didn't do it for a good cause."

She opens her eyes. "Commander..."

"Yes, Lieutenant Badgiruel?"

"...I don't think I'll put this in the report."

"Angel of Mercy."

She addresses his jacket. "Not if you come back again."

He cocks his head. Stares down at her, questioning. "Are you sure?"

She nods.

"Well...ok." And he smiles again. "Just say the word."


	3. Easy Lover

**"An Officer And A Gentleman and a Paper Skygrasper"**

"You hurt your fingers sewing my jacket." He picks her hand up in both of his. "You're right; you could blame me for a lot... Sorry." He brushes his lips over her knuckles, and rubs his thumb over the pads of her fingers. "You work so hard, Lieutenant. Harder than almost anyone I've ever seen -- and I'm talking about generals twice your age. Of course, they have staff running around to do everything for them.

"But if you burn out, you're going to deprive the Atlantic Fed and the Alliance of a very talented soldier -- and you're going to deprive yourself of a career and, more importantly, a life."

He almost has to strain to hear her. "...Commander, _why_ are you doing this..."

"Because if there's something I can help you with, I'd like to do that. Especially if I'm the problem. I can't go away. But maybe the problem can. I don't like causing people pain.

"Whatever you want to say, whatever you want to do, I'll give you my word that nobody's going to hear about it from me. As an officer and a gentleman. Ok? Ms. Natarle? Something about 'trust' is involved here, I believe."

She scribbles something on one of the few pieces of paper that actually get used for anything these days, folds it over, does it again, and pushes it towards him.

_[[You're driving me crazy and I don't know what to do.]]_

He nods at her, takes her pen and writes something on the other side...and then he... gets up and sits on the floor by her bed?...and...he's...making a paper Skygrasper. Which he throws back in her direction.

_[[Well, I could give you a few suggestions...]]_

"...But you'd have to come here," he finishes. "All right, Lieutenant?"

She's not sitting on the floor in full uniform like this. She leaves her jacket on her chair again. And takes off her shoes. He gives her that 'you know, that's a good idea...' nod and sheds his own footwear.

"Hello, Commander," she greets him, sitting next to him with her feet tucked to one side.

"Hi." White teeth and bright gold hair and blue eyes, dazzling. Like being outside at noon. She wishes he'd hug her again. Impulsively (she's never impulsive), she does it herself. Puts her arms around his neck, and somehow, she knows he's smiling. But he's got his arms around her. "Well, Ms. Natarle," and she can't actually believe Lt. Commander Fllaga can be so quiet, "I knew you were a very smart woman, but even more than I thought you were, because I was going to tell you that you really didn't have to do anything at all. If you wanted me to do something like this."

He touches his lips to her neck. Gently. But it's like something explodes somewhere inside her -- fortunately, only figuratively. He keeps doing it. Her heart rate doesn't slow down. Why does having him kiss her neck mean she can suddenly picture having him explore her naked body so easily? Really see it, not the vague imaginings flowing through her head at night.

Probably because he's actually here at the moment, already doing more than she would ever have dreamed.

She realizes she's sitting in his lap. And whimpers. Or moans with despair; she's not sure which.

"You ok?" he whispers in her ear.

She realizes what else she's sitting on. "Am I making _you _uncomfortable, Commander?"

"Huh? No, not at all, I feel fine. You don't mind if I get rid of this, though, do you?" He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it up with hers. "Actually, you'd probably prefer it, right? Less desecration of the uniform." That, or, he looks even better without it. And feels warmer.

She realizes her breasts are pressing against him, with the additional subtraction of a couple of layers of clothing, now, and stares down at the floor, unsure of what she wants. Which brings back the original subject under question....

"But...Commander..."

"Yeah?" She gestures in the appropriate direction. "Ohh. Does that bother you?"

"Well..."

"There's not much I can do about it. Except stop." He smiles, a little shamefacedly. "Sorry, Natarle, I'm holding a beautiful, attractive woman and kissing her. That's...kind of what happens."

"You...think I'm attractive."

"I think you're beautiful."

"I'm not beautiful." Beautiful looks like Captain Ramius; she knows this.

"'Eye of the beholder', Lieutenant. You may disagree but I think that you are. There's a lot of kinds of beauty. I should know." Well, that verifies that it was _definitely_ Lt. Commander Mwu La Fllaga having this conversation with her...

There's a lot more hair on his forearms than she would have thought, even if it is blond. She wonders about the hair on the rest of his body. And blushes.


	4. Running Shadows

For AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, because she enjoyed and begged and told me so. ^_^ Best way to please an author, folks!

**_"Surrender all your dreams to me tonight; they'll come true in the end." -- Pat Benatar_**

"I..."

"Hm?"

"I'm not sure what I want, right now."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No...No, that wasn't what I meant. I mean...I don't know what we do next. I mean, I do -- I mean..." She hangs her head in shame and silent frustration. He puts a finger under her chin and tilts her face up, brings them nose-to-nose.

"We could just go with the old 'do it if it feels good' policy." But everything feels good with him; that's part of the problem. He covers one of her breasts with his hand. Doesn't move it. "Does that feel all right?" She sits very still.

"Commander."

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Am I going to...see you again?"

"Uhh, yeah, Lieutenant; I can't exactly leave the ship, can I? I see you all the time."

"No, I mean....if I...if I do whatever I want with you. Would you... still do it again; after that."

"Aw, Natarle." He's hugging her again. Her chin is over his shoulder. "You think I'm just going to get what I want from you, and pretend it never happened? That's a really, really shitty thing to do to someone, excuse my language. I've never done that, not to anyone; I never would. Of course, I think it helps if you only... interact with people you like."

"...You like me."

"Of course I do. What am I, the ship's social worker?" He starts to laugh. "Sorry. Not that altruistic. What, you don't like me?"

"I like you."

"Remember when I said you needed to trust me? Well...you need to trust me. I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm not. I'm trying to make you feel better."

"Why?"

"Didn't we go over all of this? But... I hated feeling lonely. Still do. That's what friends do; they make you feel better. Can you just believe that you can walk out that door tomorrow, and I will still treat you exactly as I did yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Okay then. Is there something you'd like me to do right now?"

"...Put your hand back. Please."

"What about the other one?" His hands are over both her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples. "Does that feel good, Lieutenant? Feels great to me."

"Commander..."

"If you let me take your shirt off, there's a lot more of you that I could kiss...and I'd like to."

She should probably just accept the fact that her face will burn for however long this lasts. "I...I can do it myself." So, she does.

His hands feel wonderful. Everywhere. Almost as good as his mouth.

He stops. "Should I take _my _shirt off?"

"I..." She gives up, and just nods. Before she can think about it, anymore. And watches as he pulls it over his head. And he looks even better without _that. _She puts her hand on his upper pectoral. But she stares down at his abdomen, tautly defined, not at his face. "Commander Fllaga."

"Yes, Ms. Natarle?" She feels how his hands are poised to unhook her bra. "...Okay?" She nods. And gazes at his mouth, while he does it, and tries to fight the automatic instinct to cover herself.

"You're wonderful," she blurts; when he hugs her again, she can see what he meant; all this warmth and bare skin are astonishingly pleasurable. If dizzying. At least they're already on the floor.

"I try." He's kissing her neck again. But moving to her shoulder now. "You're not that bad yourself." He's rubbing his hand up and down the length of her bared back and suddenly, she feels herself being soothed, and leans into him, with her head on his shoulder. "You like that? Finally, I get something right, huh."

But when he takes his tongue and his lips to her nipples, after fondling her breasts, when he sucks them, it's like her body and mind are being flung out of control again. And she really doesn't care. His hair in her fingers, that bright gold pelt....she wishes she could feel it on the rest of her body.

She's shocked to realize she's having an orgasm like this. And that she's still not satisfied, even though he's not stopping or slowing down.

"...Commander..."

"Yeah?"

"I think I'd like to go to bed now."

"...Okay." He gets up slowly, breathing hard, moves toward his clothing. She doesn't move.

"I mean, take you with me."

He turns back and stares. "Really? You sure? Now?"

She gets up and unzips her skirt, and steps out of her stockings and the wet mess of her underwear. She throws her skirt on the chair and climbs into bed. She's sure. Now.

He removes his pants and socks and -- "Take those off, too." -- and his undershorts, and she sees what he really looks like, as he comes closer and climbs into her bed.

* * *

"You're very tight," his voice whispers, close to her ear.

"I'm sorry," she flushes, but she doesn't have any hiding room here, like this, on her back, under him, with him inside.

"Don't apologize. Very tight feels about right for you...I like it," he continues quietly, "You make it impossible for me to think about anything except what I'm doing right this second...and where it's happening. The 'impossible possible' is somewhere far, far away." Except that this _is_ the impossible, possible. Mwu La Fllaga in her bed, her body.

"Well, Commander Fllaga," something has her whole body in a heated grip, and she doesn't know whether it's the prospect of saying what she thinks, or..."is it me or is it just that you're so large, I couldn't take it?"

She feels him spasm on top of her, pulse of inside her, and hears his panting interrupted by a deep groan.

Finally, he gains some control back. "My, oh, my, Ms. Natarle... my, my, my, my, my." Those blue eyes flash and gleam. Even in the dim light. White teeth, like a crescent moon, or a hunting beast. "Sex as a weapon, Combat Commander? ...And you meant that, didn't you."

"Of course. After we're done, I should be looser because of this, shouldn't I?" He groans again, tightens his arms around her and presses their bodies together.

"'Of course'," he echoes. "You're going to let me kiss you." He gives her his wonderful mouth, teasing with his lips and then with his tongue until she takes it inside her own. He hasn't done this before, but it feels right, being joined with him at both ends like this.

Does she call him "Mwu" when she comes? She doesn't know, but there's the endless hot surging, the overwhelming waves of pleasure, and "Commander" has too many syllables.

Besides, he promised not to hold it against her.

* * *

"Okay, I know you don't really want to me fall asleep here, so if you'll excuse me, I'll get out of your way," he mutters, several unknown minutes later.

Part of her just wants him to stay, as he kisses her neck, slides out of her bed, and starts to get dressed. But not the part that tells her that _yes, _he needs to disappear and she needs to put this out of her mind by the time she gets up again

(And not remotely regard any of this as anything anywhere near normal).

It's not about what she wants, not any more. That's over.

She's startled when he stops by the side of her bed fully dressed, and sits up, automatically.

"Yes?"

He leans down and kisses her. On the mouth, with a surprising gentleness, and she wishes it was longer.

"...Goodnight, Natarle. Sleep well, Lieutenant."

For a moment, her mind can't think of-- "Commander?"

He's at the door. "Yes?"

"...Thank you." She swears she can see him smile, even at this range, in the dark.

"My pleasure."

And then she's alone with her thoughts.


End file.
